


Black Eyes

by Daxii



Category: Free!
Genre: Angst, Cuddling & Snuggling, Don't worry, Getting along, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Massages, NOT a SouHaru noncon hate sex fic, Platonic Cuddling, dorks growing up, glittery nail polish, not as traumatic as I was worried it would be, run Sousuke run, sharing showers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-03
Updated: 2015-04-28
Packaged: 2018-03-16 02:08:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3470420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daxii/pseuds/Daxii
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sousuke doesn’t know what to do.<br/>Sousuke doesn’t even know what he’s doing.<br/>All he knows is that he’s running at full pelt down the strip to his apartment. </p><p>Where Sousuke and Haruka end up as roommates and find out they really need each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Title/theme/plot loosely inspired by the song Black Eyes by Radical Face (and I mean loose enough that I pretty just went "ohhhh, /that's/ sort of similar" when I was flailing around for titles.

“It’s just for the semester,” Makoto soothes, patting his dearest friend on the shoulder. “And besides, you might get along with your new roommate. You could do with more friends, Haru-chan.”

Haruka isn’t so convinced. Makoto gives him a soft smile and shoulders his hefty bag.

“If you ever need me, you know I’m only a phone call away,” he says, and Haruka gives a curt nod.

And with that, Makoto is gone. Haruka watches him head down to the elevator of their dorm building and they share a small wave. He turns back to the lonely lounge room and his feet carry him towards the small sofa, where he bundles himself into that one green blanket Makoto’s had since he was a kid and always leaves it lying here for lazy evenings with the telly or a book.

They’ve had breakfast before Haruka could even have his morning bath, so he might as well do that until lunch time.

It’s not like there’s anything better to do.

All by himself.

 _Alone_.

Sure, he spent most of high school living by himself, he’s independent to a fault, but Makoto was always _there_ , just sixty-seven of his long strides from one front door to the other, keeping an eye on him; keeping him in check. But now there’s none of that. Three months. _Three months_. What could possibly go wrong in three months?

A lot, apparently, starting with _this guy_.

 

Sousuke rapped twice on the door, to no avail. He _had_ been trying to be polite, but maybe his new roommate was just straight up rude, or might not even be home. Either way, he has his own set of keys assigned by the housing department anyway. He turns the lock and stumbles in, his backpack heavy on his good shoulder, and reaches behind to haul in his pull-along, twinging a little, but it’s bearable.

Because that’s just a thing now.

“Hello?” he calls out into the small apartment.

Mr. Roomie isn’t in the main living area, for a start. The rectangular slab of worn blue carpet sports only an empty couch, a desk with a haggard looking laptop sitting atop, a sort of dangerous looking computer chair and a traditional kneeling table between what would be the “lounge” and the kitchenette.

There’s no answer resonating behind either of the two closed doors either, so maybe he’s been a bit callous to just assume the guy was being a dick about things. He’s not here.

And Sousuke is rather relieved about that.

He abandons his luggage against an empty patch of wall and goes to take a glass of water before exploring any further. Not that there’s even much to see, just the usual sea of magnolia that comes as standard with college-assigned dormitories.

The door on the left is his first choice, looking for the recently vacated bedroom, but it looks… lived in? Sort of? The sheets are ruffled and there’s a few strands of clothing laying around, but it’s _college_ , that could have been the last guy’s attempt at vacating neatly. There’s no personal possessions or anything, though, no posters or piles of text books and scattered notes, so he takes that as the sign that yes, this is the room for him, and moves his bags inside. He’ll unpack later, right now he’s just gonna take a piss and go and veg out after travelling all yesterday and getting almost zero sleep in the cheap hostel he’d crashed in overnight. He heads towards the door that adjoins his and his roommate’s rooms by a small bathroom, and turns the handle.

 

The bathroom door jerks open from a rough shove, and Haru similarly splutters up from his revere, lying naked under the tepid water, and instantly looks up for Makoto, come to pull him up from the tub as always, before he’s late for class.

But… _oh_.

Makoto left.

And this intruder is apparently his replacement.

He thinks, somewhere in his water-logged brain, that he should be at least a little thankful he _knows_ the new guy, if they’re going to have to live together. But he’s not. He’s _really_ not, because this is _Yamazaki Sousuke_ , and if he thought the water would let him, he’s tempted to drown himself.

 

“ _Get out_ ,” Nanase manages to squeak, but Sousuke’s already retreating.

He goes and sits dumbly on his bed, trying to snap the image of Nanase’s bare crotch from his mind, whether it was blurred by the water or not. Because _seriously_ , it’s just his luck, isn’t it. First his shoulder, and now life with _Nanase_ for the rest of the school year.

Nanase graces him with his not-quite-as-naked presence once again a few moments later when he comes into the bedroom in just a towel, and glares, _glares_ , down at Sousuke as if he wasn’t half his size and really in no state of dress for a tussle.

Not that Sousuke’s ever going to be in _any_ sort of state for a tussle again, with his shoulder as fucked as it is.

And then he realises: Nanase’s still staring at him, and that can only really mean one thing.

This is _Nanase’s_ bedroom. And Sousuke is _on his bed._

… _Oops_.

Sousuke gathers himself, shaking Haru’s eyes off him, and gets to his feet. “Other room, then?” he asks in a mutter, and all Nanase can do is nod.

He grabs his things quickly and just walks straight through the bathroom with them, but is pleasantly surprised to find _this_ room meticulously clean with fresh smelling sheets, because of course.

“Someone from the same course as you.” “Your roommate’s a swimmer too.”

Nanase’s last roommate had been _Tachibana_. He’s heard from Rin that Tachibana was taking the rest of the year out for a work experience opportunity at a specialist middle school, where he can get some hands on experience with competition coaching _and_ continue his studies as an aside, with lodging and meals included in the deal. It doesn’t pay, because _nothing_ pays when you’re a student, but hey, it’s not costing the guy anything either. Tachibana’s done well for himself with that.

Sousuke, on the other hand, not so much.

 

Haruka debates not even putting his clothes on. He just wants to curl up in his bed and disapperate into _nothing_ rather than face his afternoon classes. He doesn’t even want his midday mackerel.

…Well, maybe he wouldn’t go _that_ far.

Comforted by his jammers hugging his legs tightly, he pulls on some jeans and a top and heads into the main room, which is thankfully vacant. At least there’s not going to be any of the awkwardness of _introductions_ if he’s rooming with Yamazaki. They can just go straight to the part that might have taken Haru hours, even _days_ to establish, where they ignore each other completely.

He gets himself the choicest fillet from a fresh packet – the little sliver left in the last one can be diced up into a stew or something, there’s no _way_ that’s enough to satisfy his need right now. It sizzles away merrily, and Haru thinks it can’t be _that_ bad, living with Yamazaki. After all, Rin had stuck it out for a year in high school and they hadn’t killed each other.

But then Haru remembers that Yamazaki _hates_ him, so yeah, it probably _will_ be just as bad as he could ever imagine.

Yamazaki seems to be keeping to his room for now, so he’s got that going for him. All the same, he retreats to his own private space to eat his lunch perched on the edge of his bed. When he ventures out again to pick up his materials before class, Yamazaki is sprawled on the couch, in the exact same way Makoto used to. It must be something about their similar sizes and the cramped space they have to get comfortable in, and Haruka quickly looks away.

He’s _already_ pining.

 

Before Nanases leaves, nods of acknowledgement are exchanged. They’re _adults_ now, after all, and with sharing a living space, certain liberties need to be afforded, you know, for those _what ifs_ , those _just in cases_.

But at least Sousuke can finally relax now he’s gone. He doesn’t start his own classes until next week, but he has a few allotted times to go down to the pool and meet the team he’s going to be working with, and he should probably find out where his physiotherapy and coaching-theory classes are held. Normally, a roommate would be the perfect candidate to show him around, but… maybe not Nanase.

Sousuke knows it’s really his fault, this gaping _rift_ between them. He did, after all, back the guy into a vending machine. But… Nanase’s not _that_ bad, surely. Rin puts up with him, Rin’s almost head over heels for him. He’s pretty sure they’d be burying their dicks in each other’s asses if they didn’t have the more permanent relationship detail of _rivals_.

 _Huh_.

Sousuke used to be Rin’s rival.

It cuts just how much Nanase’s _replaced_ him, and still continues to, starting right back when they were kids.

There’s ice that needs to be broken, though. Rin would _hate_ them _both_ for how they’re acting right now, just two hours into this arrangement. Maybe dinner will do the trick?

 

Haruka comes home from class to the smell of… _something_ cooking. Probably whatever Yamazaki’s having for dinner. It’s not mackerel, whatever it is, so he ignores the bulk of male kneeling at the table and goes to the kitchenette to cook up his own food.

Yamazaki clears his throat.

Haru turns, eye brow already raising in synch with the motion, and waits.

“I… uh… thought we could share?” Yamazaki offers, looking one-hundred percent regretful for ever even being born.

Haruka stares at him, and down at the two plates. He’s timed it pretty well, that’s for sure, but then, he _would_ , considering they’ll have pretty similar schedules with swimming practice coming in right at the end of the day.

It’s still not mackerel.

Reluctantly, he joins him at the table and picks up his chopsticks, mumbling a quick _thank you for the food_ to the ether. It’s some kind of pork stir-fry, probably _stringently_ composed out of a physiology text book but… it’s not bad. Much better than Makoto’s cooking, at any rate.

Out of fairness, Haruka clears away and does the dishes afterwards, not sparing Yamazaki a word, but he’s _trying_ not to glare as much. They’ll lose the deposit if World War Three breaks out under their tenancy.

 

Before heading to bed, Sousuke leaves a post-it note with his mobile phone number on the fridge, and in the morning, after Nanase’s already left for the dawn swim-session, probably avoiding him, he finds he’s also left his number, hastily written on the same note, just below his own. He inputs it to his phone, contemplating some silly nick-name for a contact name, but then decides that’s _far_ too friendly, and sticks him straight under plain old ‘Nanase’.

The first week is… weird. He hardly even _sees_ Nanase. He even ends up leaving his dinner in the microwave every other night except Thursday, when Nanase has no afternoon classes and therefore no legitimate place to escape to to avoid him. They share words, just formalities, and the odd chastise at the other’s _habits_ – Nanase’s bath thing is just completely out of control – but it’s _Saturday_ lunch time when Nanase exits his bedroom and stands in the doorway, focusing his gaze on Sousuke.

Sousuke waits a moment, letting him linger, it’s not like a minute’s more silence between them is going to make the blindest bit of difference anyway. Nanase, however, is _impatient_ , apparently, and clears his throat in a manner Sousuke can only deduce to be _irritated._

“What is it?” he asks, after a moment of staring harshly at each other.

“I’m going out tonight,” Nanase says, a straight deadpan, and Sousuke blinks a moment.

“Alright, then,” and contemplates a similar plan of action for the evening, you know, getting to know the night scene.

“So if I don’t come back, or, if –”

Sousuke clicks. He gets it. They’re both single guys, barely out of their teens. He nods. “Likewise,” he mutters.

It’s an understanding, at least. There’s no judgement to be had, it’s just a part of life.

 

Haruka dresses up (down?) in his tightest bright blue jeans that cut just below his hip bones, with a black crew neck for his top half. The pockets of his leather jacket are deep enough to easily conceal his phone and modest wad of cash. It’s just taxi fare, really, for if he ends up across town. Haruka _rarely_ has to fork out for his own drinks, especially not on a night when he’s not exactly looking to stay in the club for that long.

Because tonight, he has _choices_. He won’t have to come home mostly-sober before midnight to keep his dearest friend’s worries at bay. He doesn’t need to limit himself to guys only willing to go back to _their_ place, because quite frankly he doesn’t give a _shit_ what Yamazaki might over hear from their adjoining bedroom walls. And Yamazaki’s also made it quite clear he doesn’t care what Haru thinks if he’s caught in a similar situation.

It wouldn’t matter if they _didn’t_ know each other before hand, so why should it matter when they _do?_

He applies a coat of glitter polish to each of his electric-blue painted pinky finger nails, just to catch the light, make them stand out a little bit from the others. _Pizzazz_ or whatever Nagisa and his fashion designer major friends would call it. It seems to do the trick, anyway. Always catches him that piece of meat that’s a little less _vanilla_.

He grinds up against a buffed out, bright blonde dude with a tongue piercing Haru gets a quick taste of when they duck into the bathroom to establish _the basics_. And Haru’s place it is, apparently, because this guy’s a local and still lives with his parents. Normally, Haru would have had to pass up on this chance, but _not tonight_.

 

Sousuke isn’t sure if Nanase’s been up to anything while he’s been out or not. He staggers in at ten on Sunday morning with a bruising headache to find Nanase sitting calmly and collectedly at the table with a cup of tea. He takes one look at Sousuke and something attune to _sympathy_ flashes across his face. Wordlessly, he tops up his cup from the pot and slides it along the table.

Sousuke stares at in and shuffles over. He knows when to take a hint. Nanase responding at _all_ means he must look as rough as he feels.

“It’s got coconut,” Nanase says quietly. “Meant to help.”

Sousuke grunts a _thanks_ and hunkers down, but promptly abandons all attempts at balancing on his knees and just splats on his ass with his legs out, leaning back against his good arm and holding the cup with the other.

“Good night?” he asks eventually, and he’s never even _imagined_ such a smirk could grace Nanase’s face.

That would be a yes, then.

“Just keep it out of my bed,” he grunts, amused, but the little chuckle doesn’t do much for his head.

“No worries,” Nanase replies, lighter than he’s been all week.


	2. Chapter 2

Sunday evening finds the pair crammed onto the couch with the TV on. It’s just one of those days. A days where even Haru is feeling a bit too lazy to swim. They’ve not even left this room except for bathroom breaks, and Haru has only recently come to join Yamazaki on the couch, becoming cramped at the desk where he’s been studying.

“Classes tomorrow,” Yamazaki says, and Haru can’t tell if he’s being spoken to or if Yamazaki is just voicing his thoughts, so he hums a dismissive grunt. “You weren’t there when I went to meet the team.”

Well there’s a reason for that, Haru thinks. It _may_ have been on purpose. And it doesn’t take Yamazaki long to work that one out.

“I specialise in _butterfly_. I’m not even going to _see_ you at practice,” he scolds, definitely serious and _definitely_ unimpressed.

Haru just shrugs, ignoring him, and suddenly starts paying more attention to the telly as he tries to relax. Yamazaki at least gets the hint – or is too pissed with him to continue whatever attempt at conversation he was trying to make – but whatever, the silence is nice.

He wonders if it counts as “hanging-out” when they live in the same space anyway, because he’s not entirely sure. Neither of them is moving away though, and there’s a few bricks removed in the wall between them. Like those air-holes in those caged cupboards low paid secretaries get in the Plexiglas between them and the client. Something to talk through. Something to see out of.

So he does just that, sliding his eyes over towards his flatmate and grunts for his attention. Yamazaki graces him with an entire turn of the head in his direction.

“Dinner,” Haru says simply, and tilts his head just a few degrees.

They look at each other for a minute.

“Take-out,” the say together, and Yamazaki snorts on a laugh.

 

Well that was easy, Sousuke thinks after hanging up the phone. Nanase’s left a few notes on the table and he adds his own to complete the cash they’ll need and heads back to the couch. Nanase’s gone for a bath before dinner. Sousuke recognises a specific hitch in his walk and snickers when he realises he’s probably going for some warm muscle relaxation so he’s fully functional at practice tomorrow.

He leaves the same channel rolling while the tuck in, Sousuke with a curry and Nanase taking a route he hadn’t expected with a pizza. Seafood pizza, but still. Nanase’s on the couch now, with Sousuke using the table for his much sloppier food. They’re not talking, but they’ve got their mouths full anyway, and it’s not like that makes any difference to their usual routine.

 

They exchange goodnights.

 _Well that’s a new one_.

It’s sort of _pleasant_ , in its own weird way, when Yamazaki knocks once on Haru’s bedroom door and murmurs “Bathroom’s free, g’night.”

“Night,” Haru says back. He doesn’t bother increasing his volume, he doesn’t _call_ it like he would with Makoto, because he still doesn’t give a shit whether Yamazaki’s heard or not.

But hey, he made the effort.

He’s not feeling quite so pleasant in the morning though, when Yamazaki is banging on the bathroom door from his end.

“ _Share!_ ” comes the hissed, impatient demand.

Oh right, they _both_ have morning classes now. Haru reluctantly hauls himself out of the tub and slips a towel around his waist, knotting it tight and goes to unlatch the bolt he’s put on Yamazaki’s door. Gravity pulls it open automatically, and he frowns up at the taller man.

Yamazaki makes a noise a bit like a growl and pushes past Haru, and Haru takes that as his cue to get out of the room as quickly as possible and go and put some fucking clothes on.

“Hey, wait for me!” Yamazaki demands right when Haru is putting his shoes on.

It’s… probably fair, to be honest… They both have the same physiology lecture after all, but after that Haru’s free from Yamazaki until swim practice at four. Haru’s conversations with Rin have been few and far between – time differences, and all that – but he’s _raved_ about Yamazaki’s skill as a coach. “He just _cares_ , Haru,” he’d said, at least three times, but apparently he’d worked wonders with that Nitori kid, so Haru takes his word for it.

 

 _Nanase’s swimming_. Sousuke can’t… he just _can’t_. It’s all he can do to force his eyes away when he dives in with a time trial against a bulkier lad on the team. This other guy’s nothing but muscle, with one of the strongest kicks Sousuke has ever seen, yet as soon as they hit the turn Nanase is just gliding right past him, finishing so easily it should be _humiliating_ , even though he’s hit a personal best. There’s a collective sort of nod amongst the others. There’s no shame in losing to Nanase.

Sousuke’s been given command of bringing up the endurance of those sprinters who just can’t cut it for the shorter races, to give them a boost in the 400m. One’s his age and the other is just a freshman, but they’re both eager enough. Easy to teach. _Obedient_. And after that first session, he’s left feeling pretty buzzed.

So buzzed, in fact, he finds himself clapping Nanase on the back when they stumble into each other when they’re leaving. It’s probably only right that they end up walking home together, anyway, and thinking about it they should probably have arranged this anyway.

Nanase’s just staring at him.

Sousuke quickly withdraws his hand.

“You’ve gotten… cleaner,” he says, choosing his words carefully in an attempt to keep this _calm_ between them. He knows from Rin that Nanase can go off like a little firecracker, and he’d really rather he didn’t.

“Hmm,” is all he gets out of Nanase, but he wouldn’t call it _dismissive_ , like he so usually is. More like a… modest acknowledgement?

But that’s… alright, to be honest. Nanase, even if he was so inclined, would never have any grounds to talk himself down, but he’s grown out of that cocky edge from high school. He _knows_ what it is to lose, now.

“Rin says you’ll make a good coach,” Nanase finally mutters. The conversation’s been dead for the last four blocks, and he just throws that right out there.

Sousuke has no idea what to do with it, so he just hums right back in return.

 

 _This is becoming a habit_ , Haru decides, as Yamazaki once again forces him out of the tub much sooner than he’d like. They don’t even have the same first class this morning – Haruka has a seminar on _Mackerel: A History_ – and he almost tells Yamazaki to fuck right off when he bangs on the door again.

But… he doesn’t. He gets out and gets his towel and takes off the bolt, and Yamazaki’s already moved in and hit the shower on to warm up before the water’s even drained from the tub below.

“In a rush?” he asks curiously.

“Mm…I need to go to the pharmacy on the way to class,” Haruka appropriately raises his eyebrow. “ _Shoulder stuff_ ,” Yamazaki hisses.

“So not a pregnancy test, then,” Haru quips.

“With the way you were walking on Sunday I think _you_ might be more in need of that.”

He’s just warm from the bath, and the steam from the shower isn’t helping, Haruka is most definitely _not blushing_. Yamazaki descends into laughter, a noise that’s so light and breezy Haru hardly even recognises the guy.

He takes a step closer towards the shower and grabs a hold of the waist of his pyjama pants, looking at Haru pointedly. Oh, yeah, he’s supposed to _leave now_ , not stand in the bathroom joking like old friends. He scuttles away to his room and then finds himself in the kitchen, throwing some bread in the toaster.

It pops up just as Yamazaki is coming out of his room, obviously flustered in his haste, trying to slip his feet into his shoes even as he’s stuffing his arms into the sleeves of his jacket.

“Toast,” Haru grunts, turning his head in his direction just for a second.

 

Sousuke looks from Nanase to the toaster, and then back to Nanase, who’s whipping up some eggs in a bowl.

“Thanks,” he says, feeling a bit wary of the sudden gesture.

Nanase ignores him as he grabs the two slices. He doesn’t even have time to butter them, but he otherwise wouldn’t get to eat until dinner, so the thought is much appreciated.

He picks up his prescription as soon as the pharmacy opens, and has to jog the last few blocks to his lecture building to make it on time. As soon as he’s in his seat, he’s popping a pair of the pain pills, just dry. His shoulder’s been playing him hell all night and he ran out yesterday lunchtime, so he’s in some serious need. He’ll have to wait till he’s back home to apply his soothing cream, though. Not only would it stink out the class, but it would be a waste to have it wash off when he’s in the pool later.

Nanase actually waits for him outside the locker room today, and they set off back to the apartment in this strange silence. Sousuke wouldn’t exactly call it _comfortable_ , there’s this odd sort of feeling in the air between them, and he thinks maybe talking would be better.

“I’m gonna have a bath when we get in,” he says, and he’s surprised when Nanase just nods rather than shoot him a glare for hogging the tub, but he still feels the need to explain further. “Soak my shoulder… got my cream for it today.”

Nanase nods again. “I’ll do dinner.”

Which obviously means it’ll be mackerel again.

He dries and goes to put on his sweat pants, staying shirtless as he goes back into the lounge to grab the cream from his bag and sits down on the sofa to get it rubbed in.

He winces.

 

Haru hears the hiss of pain and glances over quickly. Yamazaki’s eyes are screwed shut and there’s nothing but a grimace as he clutches his shoulder, trying to hold it through the pain even though going to reach it has apparently caused his pain in the first place.

He approaches slowly.

“Are you ok?”

Yamazaki pulls himself back into the real world and glares a “what do _you_ think” look into Haru, but then shrugs out of it.

“Hurts a bit to reach around. Pulls,” he says, biting the words.

Haru holds out his hand. Yamazaki hesitantly hands over the tube of cream.

It’s not like this is a new thing for Haru. Back rubs, helping each other stretch, applying creams and sunblock, they’re all a part of being on a swim team. You pair up, you sort each other out, then you get on with whatever like you’ve not just gotten pretty personal with the other’s body. Haru decides that attitude is the one to take when he begins to gently rub the ointment into the tender area. He can feel the swelling, how aggravated the muscles are underneath, and just how _tense_ he is as he rubs his fingers a little deeper.

“Relax,” he tells him, and he can tell Yamazaki’s at least _trying_. His other hand moves to his left shoulder. “You’ve been over-compensating,” he observes aloud, feeling the strain there.

Yamazaki just nods, and Haru rubs some of the excess cream here too, more confident with getting deeper into his tissue to work away some of that ache.

 

Sousuke sighs. Nanase’s pretty thorough, and it’s obvious he’s done this before. It’s such a relief that he finally starts to relax. It hurts when he comes to rub a little harder on his ruined shoulder, working with him as he breathes out, but overall Nanase’s doing an _excellent_ job. He decides he’s finished all too soon.

“Thanks,” Sousuke says, bringing up a bright, genuine smile of appreciation.

“Dinner.”

Nanase’s even done chicken.

He feels _sooo_ well rested with such a pain-free sleep, and wakes up fresh as a daisy while Nanase’s still in the bath. They have plenty of time yet, and he’s still feeling so thankful he doesn’t go knocking on the door to immediately get him out. Instead, he goes to start breakfast, but he’s not quite learned his way around this little kitchen yet.

Nanase doesn’t respond to him calling out his name. He’s probably under the water and can’t hear him. Sousuke heads into Nanase’s room, where the bathroom door is just shut to, not locked, so he peeks his head in.

Hearing the creek of the door, Nanase’s scowling daggers at him, obviously realising that he still has a few minutes left in the bath before Sousuke gets his turn.

“Where’s the measuring jug. I’m doing pancakes.”

Nanase blinks at him.

Sousuke hovers. Does Nanase only speak merman in the morning? Is he sleep-bathing?

“Bottom right. At the back,” he finally says, cool as anything.

Nanase applies his cream after dinner that night. And on Thursday, too. It’s an easy routine to slip into, and it’s becoming easier and less awkward each time, so much that on Friday, Nanase ducks his head into the bathroom, obviously confused just what is _taking_ so long tonight.

 

Oh. _Oh._

Haru doesn’t know what to do.

Yamazaki’s sitting hunched in the tub, grimacing in pain and gripping his shoulder again. It’s obvious he’s trying to hiss away the agony as quietly as possible, but he’s not fooling Haru.

“What happened?” he asks, and it’s immediate, he doesn’t even care that this is  _Yamazaki_  all he sees is the pain.

“Go away,” Yamazaki fires.

Haru considers doing just that, if he’s going to be such an idiot, but then... he takes another step forward, and carries on until he’s crouching down beside him and holding out a hand.

Yamazaki glares warily at it, but then finally lets go of his shoulder with his own hand and uncoils from his pain. Sitting straighter is obviously some instant relief, and Haru thinks he’s stupid for staying hunched in on himself. Yamazaki looks like he’s biting back abuse when Haru goes to rub it for him.

“What did you _do?_ ” he asks, feeling it swell and burn under his touch.

“I was just trying to wash my back,” Yamazaki splutters, so agitated Haru is almost embarrassed for him.

 _Almost_. Because this is nothing to be embarrassed about.

“Let me,” he demands, and picks up the sponge. The warm water will do him some good, and then Haru’s going to get an ice-pack on it for half an hour before he puts the cream on.

 

Sousuke let’s himself be nursed, following Nanase into the lounge in what he realises is a petulant _sulk_ but can’t bring himself to do anything about it. Nanase stands behind where he’s sat and sets about a full massage, obviously learned from nothing but experience, it’s not exactly _professional_ , but Sousuke can feel it doing the job, mostly working out the knots on the other side of his back, because he _is_ overcompensating, so much, and he’s not sure how much he can take of that.

It’s the reaching. Be it in front, to the side, or just behind, it pulls and tears at his shoulder and he’s just not agile enough to get everything with his other hand. He explains this as Nanase finally comes to apply his soothing balm, and then tops it off with a freeze-spray he pulls out of nowhere.

“Ask,” is all he says, and disappears into his room before Sousuke’s even finished his dinner.


	3. Chapter 3

“Nanase! This is like living with a woman!” Sousuke yells, taking one look at the bathtub and storming into the other man’s room.

“And what would you know about women?” Nanase replies coolly as he does… _something_ with his eyelashes, sat cross legged on his bed with a small mirror held in one hand.

Sousuke thinks his point has just been made.

But Nanase isn’t far wrong either.

“Just go and rinse all your nasty little hairs away, _please_ ,” he growls. I don’t need to shower on a bed of your pubes.”

“In a minute,” he says.

“What are you even _doing?_ ” Sousuke huffs his disbelief when Nanase picks up what looks like a tube of glitter and then rolls it onto his eyelids.

“Getting pretty,” comes the deadpan, and then the compact is closed and Nanase turns to him and… well… he’s not _wrong_ with that description.

His lashes are longer, darker, and his eyes, big to begin with, just look huge with the glitter on his lids making them sparkle even more.

 

Haru quickly cleans the bath from his shaving session – it’s still ha habit he keeps up with for swimming, and it goes down quite nicely with the guys he gets with too. He goes for purple skinnies this time, with a navy polo, popping the collar. Yamazaki cocks his head questioningly as they meet in the lounge to get their jackets and shoes.

“Does that face stuff not get all over your pillow?” he asks.

“Doesn’t matter if it’s not my pillow,” Haru simply shrugs.

“You’re not coming back tonight?” he sounds hopeful.

“We’ll see.”

Yamazaki is rocking his all-black get up of jeans and a polo, collar popped just like Haru’s. They sort of match, in a way, except you can’t see every line and contour of Yamazaki’s body as you can with Haru’s. But then, with his obvious bulk just in how thick and wide his chest and shoulders are, Haru guesses he doesn’t really need to, where as he needs to make the effort to not look like a washed out, skinny little kid.

They walk into the city centre together, which is a little odd in itself, but separate when Yamazaki says he’s going to a student bar rather than the quirkier clubs a little further into the district.

 

Sousuke finds what he’s looking for in a tall, lanky brunette he grinds against after just enough shots that he’ll neither get hard or embarrassed from it.

Nanase has apparently found what he’s looking for in the form of someone _noisy_.

They get in just as Sousuke and… uh, Kurou? not that it matters, are settling down, Sousuke spooning into this skinny frame and idly toying with a nipple between his fingers. Keiji? is pretty cute with the little whimpers he makes, and with a seductive chuckle, Sousuke comes to kiss at his neck.

Nanase and his partner aren’t wasting _any_ time in the other room. The bed groans, probably them climbing on, and there’s a groan and a “ _yesss_ ,” before everything gets kicked up a notch. Every panting breath and every slap of skin on skin can be heard, and that’s when Sousuke realises either the walls in this place are literally made of paper, or Nanase likes it _rough_.

Between Kobe?’s ass cheeks, his cock stirs back to life, and with a whimper of permission, he gets himself ready and pushes back in. They rock slowly and silently together, and it’s obvious they’re _both_ listening to the happenings of the next room for their inspiration. It’s a little embarrassing when it’s all over for them again when next door they’re still going strong.

It’s not a song Sousuke ever thought he would fall asleep to, anyway.

 

Haru limps into the bathroom nude the next morning, and almost staggers right into Yamazaki who’s at the sink in his sweats, cleaning his teeth.

It takes him a minute, staring in absolute confusion as Yamazaki looks him up and down with a smirk.

“When did… you get back?” he asks, head pounding, and the only place he can look is that welcoming bath tub.

“Last night,” Yamazaki says, and his smirk increases.

“…Oh.”

“Is that all you have to say for yourself?”

“…Pretty much,” Haru agrees, and throws the rest of his dignity away by aiming straight towards the tub and setting the taps on.

Glancing back over his shoulder, he can see Yamazaki eyeing him in the mirror. “Do you need me to evict your… _guest?_ ”

“Is he still there?”

“Man, how much did you have to drink?”

Haru’s actually pretty certain he’s still drunk. He waves a hand dismissively and steps into the still-filling bath, letting the warm water and soothing salts hug his aches.

The front door closes twice in the next twenty minutes, and then Yamazaki reappears in the bathroom, hot tea in hand.

 

Nanase is a _sorry_ sight. Sousuke produces a packet of headache relievers and he reaches out greedily, so he gently hands over the mug first, letting him establish a grip, and then puts two pills in his other hand. He knocks them back before either of them can even blink.

“I never really took you as the type, you know,” Sousuke muses, sitting down on the closed toilet.

Nanase raises his eyebrow, the grand total of his response.

“You know, going out… hooking up. Thought you were a bit more _innocent_.”

“That’s Makoto,” he says lamely.

Sousuke shrugs. “You could just shack up with him. Rin says you act like you’re married anyway.”

A rare, and remarkable soft, smile creeps across Nanase’s face. “Would _you_ shag your best friend?”

Yes, actually, because his best friend is Rin, and Rin is _hot_. But… eh, he gets it, really. It could ruin a _lot_.

He checks back in half an hour later, getting himself some toast and figuring Nanase’s probably a bit _delicate_ at the moment for any food.

“What are you _doing?_ ” Nanase hisses, and Sousuke’s pretty confused by his sudden modesty, manoeuvring the bubbles around him.

“Just checking you’re not drowning,” he grunts, a little offended that he’s now so unwanted if he doesn’t come in with tea and painkillers.

“I’m in the _bath!_ I’m _naked!_ ”

 

And _sobering up_ , apparently. Haru sinks himself down and closes his eyes until he hears the bathroom door click shut again, and then hightails it back to his room to Makoto’s blanket to curl up in, because his sheets are probably _disgusting_. It’s probably closer to dinner than lunch when he comes out again, grabbing some soft pants and toting the blanket with him as he shuffles into the lounge to flop down on the couch.

He’s short enough he can bring his knees up to curl around himself even with Yamazaki sitting there too, even if his toes _do_ brush his thigh a bit.

“How’s your shoulder?” he asks, a little ashamedly realising he hadn’t put any cream on for him last night.

Yamazaki shrugs, smirking away again. “Doing alright. It’s not like I was being fucked through the mattress or anything.”

Haru’s pretty sure there’s supposed to be some unspoken-rule that this remains, well, _unspoken_.

Yamazaki’s lucky that Haru’s grateful enough for the tea and medicine this morning that he doesn’t hold it against him, following him into his room after dinner to get his shoulder sorted, not wanting to leave it neglected again for a second night in a row.

 

A routine is established. Nanase even seems to stop resenting Sousuke when he comes in to force him to share the bathroom in the morning. Sousuke watches in slight fascination as Nanase transforms himself on Saturday evenings into the sleek little sex symbol someone so aloof and uninterested as Nanase really has no right to be.

And Sousuke finds he’s really into listening in on other people’s hard core fucking.

His shoulder’s doing better too. Somehow, he and Nanase have established a habit of pairing up for warm up stretches and exercises at practice, even though they’re in completely different divisions. It’s easier to spend that extra bit of time working on his physio exercises without feeling pressured to move onto something a little more strenuous.

He could even say his shoulder feels _good_ these days.

That is until he manages to jar it stretching just that little too far into the bottom of the noodle box, grabbing the last floats to hand out for some leg exercises. He doesn’t even notice at first, which is a credit to how well his pain management is going. There’s that extra twinge there, but he doesn’t realise just what damage he’s done until he’s trying to wash his hair under the showers after practice.

And Nanase notices too, looking at him in _concern_ from where he’s standing next to him as Sousuke feels his face crumple.

Others are looking too, his hiss reverberating around the room even with the showers running. Nanase glances over at them, and there must be something in his glare that makes them go back to what they were doing, and Sousuke’s so thankful he doesn’t even have the words. The last thing he wants is a scene. There’d been enough whispers after the team had found out someone who _should_ have been one of their strongest butterfly contenders was reduced to learning to coach through his own stupidity.

He doesn’t need that shame again.

Nanase helps him out, icing and massaging him for most of their evening until he’s a little more functional, and then slathering him up with his anti-inflammatory cream and freeze-spray. He gets to sleep relatively pain free, but by morning he still reeks of chlorine, and he still can’t reach to wash his hair.

This is it, then. Well Nanase did _say_ to ask.

Towel around his waist, he knocks on Nanase’s door, who answers it in just his boxers.

“My hair,” he says, unable to muster the words to so explicitly show his weakness.

Nanase pauses and blinks at him. “Right,” he says after a moment, and nods for him to get back in the bathroom.

Somehow, getting in the shower in their apartment is so much more embarrassing than showering in the locker room. They’re not strangers to each other’s nudity – even at their old joint practices in school – but it’s never been this _private_.

 

“I’m gonna have to get in to reach,” Haru says with a gulp.

Yamazaki turns and faces the wall as Haru climbs into the tub behind him and refuses to waste even a second, slashing on a dollop of shampoo and scrubbing him up in record time, taking the shower head down to get it all rinsed out, and tentatively sparing a moment to let the hot jet massage his shoulder a little, before hooking it back on.

He’s back in his bedroom before Yamazaki’s even turned the shower off.

Haruka discovers that sharing a shower leaves more time for sleeping in. And that’s why, even the following week when Yamazaki has regained enough motion to wash his own hair again, they’re still stepping into the shower together, and Haru saves his daily bath until later in the evening. They even take a joint shower that Saturday afternoon in preparation for their evening jaunts.

“A shirt?” he asks as Yamazaki joins him in the main room.

“Mm,” he gets a nod, a smile hidden when he turns his head. “I have a date,” a full blush spreads across his face. “Just drinks. Then… maybe some dancing.”

“Here,” Haru steps in and corrects his collar, feeling all that heat from his flush in his strong neck. “Looks good.”

 

Sousuke half-heartedly wonders if Nanase’s found himself anyone tonight, as he makes out with his new blonde companion at a table in the bar they’re in, taking a break from the supposed _dancing_ they’ve been getting up to, which was more or less straight up rutting each other’s dicks together through their jeans and making Sousuke glad of the low lighting to hide his bulge.

“Would you like to come back to my place?” he asks.

The guy’s tongue ring rubs against his lips as he nods and moves in for another kiss.

 

Haru’s really wishing he had a date.

Because this is _not_ what he was bargaining for.

He shoves again at the brute pressing him against his own front door, fighting for some kind of space, just enough room to _breathe_ so he can think straight and get his guy _away from him_.

All it earns him is one of those thick fingers already nestled in the seat of his pants jamming up his hole, already lubed by the blood from the first forced entry as soon as Haru had gone to get his keys, the seemingly _bubbly_ rugby player whose lap he’d been sat on for a good half hour as he was spoiled with drinks and kisses shifting into a monster.

“Get _off_ ,” he tries to yell, but he can’t, it’s barely a squeak, he’s so crushed by the man’s weight pressing him against the wall that he just can’t fill his lungs for anything.

But that’s when the first slap comes, and Haru’s head knocks into the wall. Enough to shake him up, make him stumble, make him inadvertently spread his legs for more balance, and another finger is shoved in.

“I bet you can cum just from me fingering you, you little _slut_ ,” the words are wet, spat against his mouth has he tries to force his tongue in. “How about we just do this right here?”

 

Sousuke doesn’t know what to do.

Sousuke doesn’t even know what he’s doing.

All he knows is that he’s running at full pelt down the strip to his apartment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *pants*  
> well that was... my first ever attempt a properly dramatic plot twist cliff hanger thing   
> I'm a little bit worried and sort of exhilarated at the same time.   
> So... yeah, comments and love are much appreciated.   
> daxii on tumblr.


	4. Chapter 4

Haruka gasps as he’s released from his prison against the wall, taking his fill of air before his supply is inevitably cut short again when his attacker repositions. His eyes are screwed shut and his knees start to give way, no longer being kept upright by the hand in his pants and weight crushing him against the concrete. His knees fail him, and he starts to sink, _fall_ to the ground, buckling in on himself instinctively. There are voices, yelling, but he can’t place words. He can’t place _anything_. He floats, waiting for another blow, survival instincts telling him to keep his knees drawn up, to stay on his side. The touch that comes to brush his cheek is not what he was expecting.

 

“Nanase,” Sousuke says, forcing his voice to be gentle as he tries to rouse the tiny looking man from his alarming state of disassociation.

“Haruka!” Ryou, his date, yells and comes over. Sousuke whips out a hand to shush him. He doesn’t know how they know each other, doesn’t even care to, he just needs to get Nanase up.

“Come on. He’s gone. It’s Sousuke. You’re safe,” he soothes. Nanase’s eyes flicker open warily at the recognition of his name. “Can you get up?”

He can, with a lot of help from Sousuke, who slinks his arm around his waist and lets him lean into him. He immediately notices he’s trying to keep weight off his left foot, but his other injuries look superficial, although there’s a nasty looking bump on the side of his head and bruises are forming around his eyes. A bust in his lip has already started to congeal.

“Should we call the police? Ambulance?” Ryou asks.

Nanase shakes his head, just barely. “Later,” Sousuke decides. “Can you get the door?”

He gets Nanase in and to the couch, sticking close, keeping that arm around him in case he starts to wobble again. There’s a definite limp, but he shows no pain.

“What do you need?” he demands, forcing eye contact.

Nanase raises a hand and waves it upwards. “Head,” he chokes out.

He gets Nanase rested back, sitting up, and goes to gather some of his own painkillers and a glass of water. Nanase definitely requires more than just an off-the-shelf aspirin right now. Sousuke’s pretty sure he’d be put straight on the morphine if they got him to casualty, but for now his cocodomol will have to do.

Ryou hovers uselessly. Sousuke dismisses him. He can deal with that later.

Nanase has retreated in on himself, barely blinking, probably unaware of Sousuke hurriedly dissolving some salt in a bowl of hot water and adding just enough cold so it won’t burn his skin and grabbing the cotton wool from the bathroom.

“This’ll sting,” he warns uselessly, and sets about methodically cleaning the little cuts over his hands and wrists – the rest of his arms protected by his jacket – and comes up to his face. Nanase closes his eyes. Sousuke can’t blame him.

He cleans up his neck, jaw and cheeks, then goes to replace the solution with regular warm water for dabbing at his eyes and nose, carefully removing his mascara and glitter in the process.

 

His body begins to tremble. He can feel it. Soft shudders coursing through him, but they’re building, and it’s probably something to do with the concrete colliding with his head, but Haruka knows what this is. He’s going into shock. He’s hyper-ventilating. He’s crying.

And Yamazaki wipes each of his tears away without a word.

He finds his soft fleece jacket with a shaking hand and _grips_ onto the warmth, his whole body clenching, but that was a mistake.

 

“ _Aaah,_ ” Nanase yells and rolls onto the side of his hip. Sousuke shoots out an arm to catch him, saving him from falling hard onto the solid arm of the couch and brings his head to rest on his shoulder, keeping as much weight off his rear as possible as he tenderly assesses the size of the bump to his head.

He’s probably a little bit concussed and more than shaken up but, well, he’ll _live_ , in the long run. Sousuke doesn’t even want to imagine how much pain he’s in, but he can _see_ the blooded stain leaking out onto his jeans, and it makes him want to gag. Gag with hate and disgust that anyone could _do_ this.

“Come on… let’s…” he pauses to think. He needs to get him clean and comfortable to help prevent any infections. “Shower,” he decides. “Your ankle, how is it?”

Nanase’s eyes open and he raises his head, still trembling but _remarkably_ composed. “Just a sprain.”

Sousuke makes a mental note to keep him out of practice for a week, regardless of the state of the rest of him.

He helps him up, Nanase still with a claw like grip into the front of his jacket, but that’s okay. It can’t last for much longer anyway. Tentatively, with lots of warning, because the last thing he wants is for Nanase to think he’s being taken advantage of _again_ , he peels the leather jacket from him, his arms largely limp and useless, and slides his hands under his top to pull it over his head. Nanase tries to undo the button and fly on his jeans, but his hands are shaking too much.

Sousuke doesn’t mean to vomit, but there’s blood, _so much blood_ , and the next thing he knows after he’s peeled Nanase’s tight jeans down to his calves is that he’s abandoned him to balance with the sink by himself to retch into the toilet.

“Sorry,” he says hastily, wiping his mouth.

Nanase shrugs.

“I’ll lift you in, alright?” he asks, he doesn’t think Nanase could even be _capable_ of separating his legs enough to climb into the bath at this point anyway, but he’s wound his little hand back into his jacket anyway, gripping on, using Sousuke as an anchor while his head is probably spinning, _reeling_ with everything that’s happening.

 

He’s so methodical, and Haruka appreciates this more than he’s even aware. He brings his arms around his neck when Yamazaki reaches down to wrap his arms around his bare thighs and pick him up, effortlessly bringing him over the rim of the bath and setting him down.

Haruka doesn’t let go of his neck.

 

And Sousuke thinks that his is just fine, at least he has both hands free to wash him off rather than keep trying to hold him up with that battered ankle and shaking legs. Most of Nanase’s weight rests against him, their chests together as he almost hangs over his shoulder, Nanase the same height as he is now, being raise up by the bath while Sousuke stands outside it. He gets the nozzle unhooked and comes to rinse him down between his legs, knocking the temperature down a notch so he can’t scold his wounds as he just holds it, aimed down his crack, and glares at the blood as it washes away.

Trying to talk would be wasted effort. Trying to do _anything_ but help him would be stupid. He doesn’t even register that this _should_ be embarrassing, but there’s none of that, there’s nothing but this _need_ to fix up all this damage he wishes he was there to prevent in the first place.

Tonight would have been a good night to check out one of Nanase’s weirdo night clubs. He could have stuck by his side, got a clock on the guy he was with. Nanase isn’t _stupid_. He’d obviously been tricked, manipulated, lost his inhibitions and put too much trust in what should have been a regular, consensual night of drunken student sex.

He sniffles into Nanase’s shoulder, just as Nanase sniffles into his, and then he’s caught off guard by a choked laugh.

 

“Why are _you_ crying?” Haruka asks, and he’d probably be smirking if his lower lip wasn’t twice as big as it should be.

“I’m just really sorry,” Yamazaki breathes out, and comes to wrap both arms around Haru’s lower back, flexing one wrist to direct the spray of the shower.

“It’s not your fault,” Haru knows he’s not still talking about throwing up. “Guess I ruined your date, huh?”

“Mm, you owe me,” Yamazaki hums, and shuts the shower off.

He picks him up again and sets him back on the bathmat, and Haru finally acknowledges that his ankle really is rather busted up and stays close against the large chest in front of him, his arms still hooked around his neck. Yamazaki strokes a big, soothing hand up and down his back as he dabs a towel over his backside legs, pausing his comfort just briefly to knot it around him.

“You should have something to eat, and some more tea,” Yamazaki tells him, his voice soft and gentle, spoken into the top of his head where he’s put his chin.

Haru decides not to argue. He’s not the one doing the medical course, after all. “Mackerel,” he mutters.

 

A small fillet of mackerel and a slice of buttered toast later finds Nanase reaching out to wash it all down with a fresh cup of tea. Sousuke hands it to him and keeps his hand just touching the side of it, keeping it steady in Nanase’s shaking hold. For all his composure, he can’t control it, he even looks _irritated_ at his body’s natural reaction to the trauma. They’re both still drunk, Nanase considerably more so than Sousuke, and that teamed with Nanase’s usual dismissive demeanour is probably the only thing keeping the both of them from losing their minds.

“If I let you go to sleep, you’re not gonna black out on me, are you?” he asks.

Nanase shakes his head. “I didn’t hit it _that_ hard.”

Sousuke would be want to argue, but he takes his word for it. He’s still got enough of his senses to be a little asshole and tease Sousuke over the wet stain on his front – even though it was his own fault – so he comes to bring him back to his feet, arm tight around his waist as he hobbles him to his bedroom.

He grabs the green blanket, the one Nanase’s always toting around like a child might with a comfort item, and wraps it around his narrow shoulders so they can leave the damp towel in the hamper. Nanase lays on his side and Sousuke sits by him for a minute, helping him get his head to a pillow and bringing the quilt up to his neck. He strokes his hand down Nanase’s arm as it hooks over the top of the duvet, just little brushes down the cold, clammy skin until he reaches his hand.

Nanase takes hold.

“Stay,” he mutters, and Sousuke can’t even begin to think why until he feels another little shudder course through him.

“I’ll be back in a minute,” he assures, squeezing his fingers as he pulls his hand away, and goes to change into pyjamas, returning with two water bottles from the fridge.

A bit unsure, he slips under the quilt behind Nanase, but he quickly rolls over to face him, these sad little eyes cutting deep into his resolve. Sousuke brushes at his cheek, and Nanase starts to cry again, silent tears rolling onto his finger as Sousuke does the same. He brings him in, one arm slipping under his neck to act as a pillow, curling around so his hand weaves into his hair and the other bringing them flush, stroking the warm blanket covering Nanase’s back.

He pets him, just holding him gently into his chest as Nanase’s composure dissolves completely and he cries shamelessly.

“I’m so sorry.”

It’s all Sousuke can utter as Nanase cries and shakes until Sousuke’s fairly sure he’s warn himself down into a fitful sleep, little tremors still wracking through him that Sousuke knows will keep him awake all night, but still he keeps petting, his fingers stroking endlessly through his silky hair.

 

Haruka blinks awake in the morning, confused by the intensity of his headache, until the memories hit him and he gasps, closing his eyes against the black cotton clad chest in front of him, until he feels fingers twitch in his hair.

It’s just Yamazaki.

He wriggles an arm out from Makoto’s blanket and brings it over his waist, nuzzling in further to the soft security of his bulk.

“Thank you.”

 

Sousuke gets them both up, gets them both sorted with some tea and toast, and finally gets some ice on that ankle.

“What are you going to do?” he asks fingers gently brushing the hand that Nanase has unconsciously shoved into his as soon as Sousuke had given him the phone.

He shrugs. “I don’t know his name or anything.”

And neither Sousuke nor Ryou had gotten a good enough look at him to give a description.

“Report it anyway… someone at the bar might have known him, and seen you two together… Are you sure you don’t want me to take you to the hospital?”

“I’m fine,” it’s not quite a lie, but he’s at least _functional_ and mesmerizingly rational.

Sousuke takes his cue to get up and go away when Nanase drops his hand, so he can make his call in private.

“Let me do your shoulder,” Nanase calls out to him, apparently off the phone ten minutes later. There’s a shake to his voice, rattled by recalling, probably.

 

Haruka sets about the calming, rhythmic motions of rubbing his fingers into Yamazaki’s skin, the little soft sighs letting him know he’s hitting all the right spots. He lathers on the cream, guilty, although he realises it’s not his fault, for another night of not taking care of him properly.

“Thank you,” he says it again, and rests his forehead into the back of his neck, closing his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this was traumatic but really nice to write. A good chunk of awkward, upsetting research, but... I don't know. I like how it's come out. All of the feels.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've added a few bits to this final chapter.

Come Tuesday, Haru sits on the sofa next to a kind, young female officer, giving a statement and the best description he can muster. An older, rougher officer sits at the desk. Yamazaki is in his room, but the door is ajar.

“So you were at the night club with him, and _you_ brought _him_ back _here_?” he asks.

Haru really doesn’t think he’s being taken seriously.

“Yes,” he says, voice trembling. “He was… _nice_ , in the club. And then he got…”

“You didn’t clean up the blood,” Yamazaki suddenly appears in the doorway, and Haru whips his head around.

He’s glaring hard at the male officer, and Haru feels the woman beside him tremble under the weight of his words. He sits on the arm of the couch at Haru’s other side and takes his hand. Haru wants to whimper as Yamazaki fills in for everything he witnessed, the extent of the damage, and his tone is so cold and full of hate that the young woman cries.

The other officer changes his tune considerably.

Haru’s healed enough that he can climb into the tub by himself that evening, but Yamazaki gets him behind him all the same, one hand just there, resting on his shoulder or on his back, there to save him if his ankle gives up or he gets struck with another case of the shakes.

 

For the third night in a row, Sousuke follows Nanase into his bedroom and gets in beside him. It’s unspoken, on both sides, just a new addition to their routine. Nanase’s not quite so clingy any more, and faces away from him. Sousuke plays with his hair, and gets a little pleasant sigh for his efforts.

“Are you going to tell Makoto?” he asks.

Nanase almost laughs at him. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“He’s not going to _judge_ you. He’s your best friend –”

“He’ll worry,” Nanase says, and that puts an end to that one.

“Rin?”

“You’re enough.”

And Sousuke’s… not sure how to take that, really. He’s confused, he’s _flattered_ , but he really doesn’t like this nervous little wreck Nanase’s become. He scoots over, draping an arm over him, and Nanase gives another little sigh, breathing out what Sousuke can only interpret as _relief_.

Nanase stays in the apartment all week. Physically, he’s fine by Thursday, and Sousuke’s confident the remaining splotches on his skin could be covered up if he really wanted to. He gets in the shower every morning with Sousuke, even though he almost definitely goes back to bed afterwards.

He arranges another date with Ryou for this Saturday.

 

Haruka sits bundled half naked in Makoto’s blanket – pretty much his existence for the entire week – pretending to draw for one of his assignments while the TV drowns out his thoughts. Yamazaki comes out of his bedroom, dressed nice in a crisp white shirt and tan pants. He’s going out.

“Ah… oh… You’re staying home?” he asks, catching sight of Haru.

Haru just nods, because even if he wasn’t just as dressed for the day as he had been this morning, he really, _really_ doesn’t want to go out. Obvious reasons, and all that.

Standing between his shoes and his bedroom, Yamazaki does something on his phone and then disappears back into his room. He comes back out in his boxers and a hoody that’s too big for even _him_ and grabs two cans of beer from the fridge.

“Here,” and he delivers one into Haru’s hands. “Ryou sends his best.”

“You’re allowed to go out.”

“I know,” Yamazaki just shrugs, sitting down. Haru ignores him and puts his feet in his lap.

 

Sousuke buys some more beer and bottles of vodka and cola when it’s his turn to do the weekly shop on Monday.

Nanase goes to his classes. Nanase goes to practice. But Nanase also continues to stick to Sousuke like glue, all snuggled up to him in the bed he silently continues to insist on sharing, so many accidental touches in the shower because he’s just standing so _close_.

And he’s driving Sousuke up the wall.

It’s not that he doesn’t _like_ how close they’ve suddenly become. Of course, he wishes it could have been under better circumstances, but Nanase’s even _funny_ when he wants to be, and has a kind nature Sousuke never even suspected and, well… he’s starting to realise other things about him to.

Like just how _soft_ his hair is and how cool and expressive his eyes are. How lean and long all his limbs look despite his shorter frame. How his muscles are so subtle but so strong. All jagged lines and smooth curves exactly where he could ever want them.

“I got us a movie,” he says on Saturday night, giving Nanase a chilled beer and going to put the disk in the player.

Little feet are in his lap as soon as he sits down. He rubs them, and it obviously doesn’t bother Nanase at all, as he’s absolutely _enraptured_ with the film. He’s done well, getting something water based.

“You’re feet at like ice,” he comments quietly.

“Mm, cold,” comes the dismissive response.

 

Haru slides his eyes over to Yamazaki, lazily stroking his feet with his big, warm hands. He’s not taken the hint. He moves his legs further into his lap. Yamazaki begins to rub his shins as well.

“You really are cold. Where’s your blanket?”

“Wash.”

“I’ve got one. I’ll be back in a minute.”

Haru has curled his knees up, leaning towards the middle of the couch when Yamazaki comes back and tucks it around him. He sits back with his arm spread out along the back. Haru knows it helps to elevate his shoulder, give it a comfortable stretch, but it’s also made a nice wide opening next to his body. He nuzzles in.

Yamazaki says nothing, just pulls the blanket over them both and pets a hand through his hair. When his shoulder’s had enough, his arm falls around him comfortably. Haru finally relaxes for the first time all day.

He’s a little bit embarrassed and a little bit self-conscious of his behaviour, but Yamazaki doesn’t seem to react, so he’s choosing not to either, just letting this warm feeling of _protection_ wrap him up. He might be getting an addiction.

“Are you having a bath tonight?” he asks

“Yeah, I’ve not had a good soak in a few days, so I think I will,” Yamazaki muses.

“Don’t use all the hot water,” Haru huffs. He gets a squeeze around his shoulder.

“You want one too?”

“Mm.”

“Just get in, if you want…”

Well there’s an offer he wasn’t expecting.

 

Years of wearing tight swimsuits and spending most of his time around _very_ attractive men has given Sousuke quite the well-developed skill at staying soft.

Nanase slipping in between his legs and leaning against his chest in the bath, however, is almost definitely his biggest challenge yet. He keeps his hands to himself, for once, in recent days, Nanase is just so _touchable_. It’s really defeating the point of having a bath to sink down to his neck and soak his shoulder, but never mind.

“Are you not seeing Ryou again?” he asks.

“Why? Do you want him back?”

He shrugs. “Bit boring…”

Sousuke can only stifle a laugh. “What are you into, then?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know…”

Well, _about_ that.

 

“Come on, get pretty,” Yamazaki says pushing Haru up and out of the desk chair and bringing him into the bathroom.

“What?” Haru can barely ask, as Yamazaki turns the shower on and begins to peel his clothes off.

“Come on,” he presses. “We don’t have all night.”

Haru could argue otherwise, but with an exasperated sigh climbs into the tub and lets Yamazaki squirt some shower gel at him.

“Aw, not putting on all your make-up for me?” he asks, teasing, sort of cooing.

Haru glances up at him after tugging on his tight jeans. “What?”

“You owe me, remember? A date.”

“A date,” he repeats. “ _You’re_ taking _me_ on a _date._ ”

“Yes.”

“And you want me to wear glitter eye shadow?”

He nods, grinning. Haru pacifies him. Probably just some excuse to get him out of the house anyway.

He freezes at the door.

 

Sousuke slips their hands together. “Dinner. Don’t worry, Haru.”

He requires a little bit of coaxing, and Sousuke can see just _how_ unsure he is, can feel it in the sweaty grip in his hand. He keeps his hold tight, bringing both their hands into his pocket when they hit the street. Nanase doesn’t take his eyes off him.

It’s not much, but it’s the best he can do with their budget, and Nanase munches on the mackerel miso happily in their little booth.

“It’s not going to happen again, you know,” Sousuke tells him, brushing their knees together under the table.

Nanase gives a worried little shrug. “If this is just to get me to go out again… you know you don’t have to stay home with me.”

Sousuke shakes his head. “I know.”

“Then why…?”

“I was worried about you…and… I like your company.”

“Oh.”

“Do you want to go home?”

Nanase pauses for a minute, taking a breath. “Let’s go for a drink. I’m not putting _this_ on just for miso,” he says, gesturing to his face.

He takes Sousuke’s hand this time, popping back into his pocket, snug and safe.

 

“Dance with me,” Haru demands, falling a little limply over Yamazaki’s lap, being caught and brought back to his feet, just as he expected.

He’s drunk. He’s drunker than he intended, but he slides his ass against the front of Yamazaki’s trousers with a flirty flutter of his lashes and doesn’t even have the sense left to blush about it.

“ _Now_ we’re going home,” Yamazaki says, holding Haru by the hips.

Haru manages to grind his way into staying till the end of the song, but then Yamazaki has him bundled under his arm and is getting him out of the club.

 

Nanase’s hard work to get home, stumbling and giggling and trying to dive through the door of every bar and club they pass. Sousuke ends up having to keep his arm around his little waist – holding his hand not securing him to his side nearly as effectively – and rubs at his jutting hip bone with his thumb, trying to keep him still while he wrangles with the front door key.

But then suddenly Nanase’s all up in his face, arms hooking around his neck, pecking at the next of his tee with his lips, making his way onto Sousuke’s skin, and Sousuke just freezes for a second, before letting the key just sit in the lock and brings his other hand up to the back of Nanase’s neck.

“Hey,” he breathes in, and exhales close to Nanase’s ear, and now Haru’s mouthing at the underside of his jaw.

They’ve been so close all evening. Has it all just been one big hint? Sousuke has to suddenly decide just how serious he was being when he called their little outing at _date_ , and finds himself rationalising that _sure, yeah, alright_ , maybe he _does_ like him that way. He lets him clamber onto his tiptoes and kiss his cheek, and Sousuke adjusts their angles to aim their lips together.

Nanase’s eyes shine, bright and positively _smug_ , like he’s really getting something he’s been hankering for, and he pecks his mouth pointedly. Sousuke smiles, rubs their noses together, and lets Nanase come in for something deeper.

 

Haru suddenly realises the position he’s in. He can feel it, this huge presence sandwiching him against the door, his hot breath too close to his neck. His knees begin to shake, his whimpers begin to tremble and –

 

“It’s just me,” Sousuke breathes, stooping and forcing Nanase to make eye contact with him. He pants, his panicked breathing still running to fast, his heart almost audible as it flutters away. “Come on…”

This was a bad idea. He’s just not ready.

“Go and wash your face. I’ll get you some food,” he says, getting Nanase pointed in the direction of the bathroom. He needs his space. For how _affectionate_ he’s been these last few weeks, Sousuke knows that five minutes alone will calm him down. Especially after that kiss.

“Sorry,” he mumbles, curling up into a tiny ball on the couch.

“It’s fine,” Sousuke assures, handing him a segment of orange. “It happens… it’s trauma.”

Nanase doesn’t disagree. Sousuke excuses himself.

Sharing showers _and_ a bed is playing havoc with his self-control. He bites into his collar as he fires his orgasm into the toilet, desperate to keep quiet.

Nanase is hot, he’ll be the first to admit it now. But he’s so off limits it’s not even funny. He just _can’t_ , if even kissing sends him into panic.

It was _bound_ to happen to one of them sooner or later. Sousuke just wishes it had been absolutely _any_ other night. Nanase breathes calmly against him, still fast asleep, having snuggled himself tightly into Sousuke’s arms shortly after falling asleep, instinct seeking him out, and Sousuke had just gathered him in, as he’s become so used to.

But now he has a boner, pressing right into Nanase’s thigh, and if he moves even in the _slightest_ he’s going to wake up and he’ll be _dead_.

 

Haruka gets himself ready before Yamazaki gets home on Saturday from a grocery run. He’s picked up alcohol and snacks, but Haru just turns him right around again in the door way.

“We’re going out,” he says.

Yamazaki doesn’t argue, though he’s really not dressed for much. Haru thinks he looks good anyway.

“See anyone you liked?” Yamazaki asks, even as _he’s_ the one playing with Haru’s hand under the table. Although Haru’s the one who’d put it there.

Yes, he _does_ , but if Yamazaki’s not getting the hint, Haru’s not going to say anything. He leans into him. “I just want to be out.”

“Let’s dance, then.”

He hasn’t had sex in over a month. It’s not that he’s _desperate_ , and last week with Yamazaki proves that he’s definitely not _ready_ , but he’s also seriously not coping well with his accidental abstinence. He doesn’t know if Yamazaki is shacking up in the campus toilets between classes or what, but he doesn’t seem to be having _any_ difficulty keeping is cool.

Their kiss hasn’t been mentioned at all. Lost to the night, excused by drunkenness.

 

“I need to get laid,” Nanase declares, a sort of grumble as they’re in the shower the following Saturday.

Sousuke supresses a little chuckle. “I’ve been wondering when you were going to get back out there.”

“Not… like that,” he says, looking down at their feet, _down at their dicks_.

“You’re all… you know, _better_ and everything though, right?” he asks.

“Yeah, just…”

And Sousuke gets it. He’s _scared_.

“Let’s stay in,” Nanase says, defiant and turning away.

Sousuke pops a piece of popcorn into Nanase’s mouth as he comes past him to join him on the couch. He’s not surprised when Nanase flops his head into his lap. Sousuke tucks the blanket around him.

“What’s _your_ type?” Nanase asks, apparently ignoring the film.

“Wouldn’t _you_ like to know,” Sousuke teases, scruffing his hair.

“I’m asking.”

He is, isn’t he?

“It… depends what _they_ want, really.”

“Glittery eye-shadow?”

Sousuke smirks. “It… looks good, yeah. Right kind of guy can pull it off.”

“Sousuke…” and Sousuke blinks, looking down at him. “Have you felt...?”

“Horny?” Sousuke laughs out, but Nanase nods in his lap. “Um… yeah…” he runs his hand down from Nanase’s hair, brushing down his bare back. He clears his throat. “Are you thinking…?”

“We both… like guys… we don’t have to go out and _meet_ anyone… we don’t have to get rid of them in the morning…” he speaks slowly, logically.

Sousuke nods. “So you’re saying we should… help each other out?”

“Yes.”

Suddenly Nanase sits up and turns around, facing him. Sousuke reaches out to cup his face, gently rubbing his chin with his thumb as the space between them shrinks.

“It’s just me,” he promises.

His lips are soft.  He can feel little teeth marks from where Nanase’s chewed a little in his nerves. He runs his tongue over it, lets Nanase open his mouth to let him in, and then has him sinking into his lap, hands roaming. He keeps his eyes open, just watching for any adverse reactions, but they’re sober, safe, and Nanase is just entirely melting into him.

 

Haruka learns that Sousuke likes it _slow_.

 

Sousuke learns that Haruka likes it _rough_.

 

Haru, slick and sweaty, decides they make quite the good team, and leans forward, sliding Sousuke’s soft cock out of his ass, and lies on his chest, taking another kiss. Sousuke apparently wants _more_ in regards to kisses at least, and keeps Haru held tight, slicking their tongues together, and when he pulls away he still peppers kisses into his hair.

It becomes just another part of their daily routine, until…

“So Makoto’s back in two weeks…” Haru murmurs into Sousuke’s neck, breaking up their hot, post coital kissing session.

“Mm… I should get to finding somewhere for the next term.”

“Or you could… stay here?”

“ _Here_?” Sousuke repeats, and gestures to the bed. Haru’s bed.

 

It’s not like they’ve even _been_ in the other room for a while now, anyway.

“Yeah…” Haru says, calmly, toying lazily with one of Sousuke’s nipples as they talk and he settles his head down, apparently deciding that Sousuke himself will become his mattress and pillow for tonight. “And I think… you owe me a proper date, anyway.”

“Miso doesn’t meet your standards?”

“Oh, I think you know what I like.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, shit. Wish I remembered what as here before I killed the old one to put the updates in.   
> I reread this the other night and thought it was... lacking, so I've tried to fix that.

**Author's Note:**

> Writing these guys in third person is WEIRD oh my god.  
> Let me know what you think. Don't be /too/ put off by that warning, because if you've read anything of mine before you know I'm just an absolute soppy sap who can't angst for shit.  
> Let's aim for 4 chapters and 10,000 words. And let's watch that spin out of control the second there's a piece of fruit involved.  
> daxii on tumblr.


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